Index . SpiralDancer Texts

Empty Chamber

It's the overkill upon the screen.
The rage inside the steel machine.

The empty chamber,
The blackened hole.
The charred remains,
The glowing coals.
Knowing when not knowing how,
Holding on till they allow.
Breathing sand not breathing air.
The hole remains an unfocused stare.

A hypodemic shared between,
An open wound you haven't seen.
Sinuous and sinful. Two as one,
A weeping sore. A cold comes on.

Twisted metal and dark red stains,
Spread across three burning lanes.
The twisted necks that crane to see,
Some taste of human misery.
The ball and chain.
The loop of rope,
The roll of knives.
The fear of hope,

The times I wish I had again.
To see if I could still refrain,
From doing what I had done then.
To see myself destruct again,

Copyright J.Hill (Subz / spiralDancer)